


Five Times That Merlin Kissed Arthur Plus One Time That Arthur Kissed Him Back

by tehfanglyfish



Series: Five Times [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, but with the final 5 minutes that got cut from the finale added back in, could be read as canon compliant, definitely how it was supposed to have ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 22:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18537001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehfanglyfish/pseuds/tehfanglyfish
Summary: Obvious title is obvious.





	Five Times That Merlin Kissed Arthur Plus One Time That Arthur Kissed Him Back

**Author's Note:**

> Desperately seeking new ways of stating the obvious - not my characters, not my franchise, no profits for me.

1

Merlin knelt before Arthur on the throne room floor.

“I become your man from this day forward, and unto you shall be true and faithful…”

Inwardly, Arthur cringed. He hated these homage ceremonies. Yes, he was a prince, and yes, that meant that others should show him deference and respect, but to have people prostrate themselves on the floor and recite some stuffy oath, it just didn’t feel right. Still, Uther insisted, especially since he’d named Merlin as Arthur’s personal servant. The whole thing seemed a bit pointless to Arthur. Insolent or not, Merlin had saved him from an assassin’s dagger. In the prince’s mind that action revealed far more about loyalty than the generic words of the oath. Wearing full formal attire, having the whole court gathered to witness, it was the kind of pageantry that Arthur despised. He’d much rather be out training the knights or on a hunt or…

“… saving the faith that I owe to our sovereign lord the king.”

Merlin finished the recitation and moved to kiss Arthur’s ring, flashing the prince a tiny, conspiratorial smirk. Clearly Merlin thought the whole thing was just as ridiculous as Arthur did. Taken off guard, Arthur’s hand shifted and Merlin’s lips brushed his finger rather than the ring. The prince felt his cheeks flush and hoped no one had noticed.

There really was something about Merlin that Arthur didn’t fully understand. He wondered if he’d ever figure it out. Probably not. Personal servant to the prince was a position with a high turnover rate. Merlin would likely quit before too long, just like the others.

2

The fever spread rapidly throughout the kingdom, with even the strongest becoming severely ill. Many of the very young and the elderly perished, falling victim to an enemy that couldn’t be fought with armies. Despite Uther’s fears of sorcery, Gaius soon concluded that it was a natural, albeit powerful, infection. The physician could treat the symptoms but there was no cure. Hoping to stop its spread, Uther imposed a quarantine, prohibiting all but those carrying vital supplies from entering the castle walls.

The quarantine slowed, but did not halt, the progress of the sickness. Many within the keep fell ill. An exhausted Gaius, aided by Merlin, provided palliatives to comfort the sick as their bodies struggled to recover. The contagion did not discriminate by social standing. Even the prince, who had been fighting fit, was unable to avoid infection. It ravaged his body, leaving him too weak to leave his bed. After a few days, he lost consciousness. Despite Uther’s frantic commands to do something, Gaius could find no remedy.

Through it all, Merlin remained at Arthur’s bedside, taking care of the prince as best he could. In spite of the danger, Merlin snuck the grimoire into Arthur’s room and spent his nights studying healing spells by candlelight. One by one, he tried them on Arthur, and one by one they failed to have an effect. Merlin was growing desperate. The death of the prince would cause political instability in Camelot. It would also break Merlin’s heart. Despite Arthur’s tendencies to a pompous, selfish ass, Merlin saw another side to him. One that was kind and compassionate, more inclined to emphasize mercy over might, that valued others regardless of rank.

Having almost given up hope, Merlin focused his efforts on the final spell in the book. It was a hybrid spell, a combination of healing magic and a reverse love charm. Rather than causing the target of the spell to fall in love with the caster, it claimed to use the bond between them to cure the afflicted. The greater the shared love, the more powerful the spell’s restorative effects would be. Since Arthur regularly insulted him, berated his abilities as a servant, and threw things at him, Merlin seriously doubted the spell would work. Still, it was all that was left to try.

Merlin carefully recited the incantation, channeling as much of his own magic and love for Arthur as he possibly could into it. Following the directions to the letter, he gently placed a kiss on Arthur’s lips and then settled into the bedside chair.

The next morning Merlin awoke to Arthur jostling him. The prince had regained consciousness and was on his feet, complaining about the lack of breakfast. A thorough examination by Gaius revealed that not only had Arthur fully recovered, but that he was actually in better shape than before he’d taken ill. This news gave Merlin much to ponder, especially since Arthur now also seemed a little less inclined to throw things at him.  

3

The big day had finally arrived. To the delight of pretty much everyone, Arthur was to marry Guinevere. The servant daughter of a blacksmith would wed the king and be crowned queen. Revelers cheered in the streets. Houses throughout the lower town were adorned with ribbons, flowers, and congratulatory banners. The Rising Sun offered free drinks to mark the occasion.

With just a few minutes before the start of the ceremony, Merlin helped Arthur make the final adjustments to his clothes. Throughout it all, the king remained quiet, his posture rigid.

“Got a case of nerves?” Merlin asked. “You seem as though you’re about to attend a funeral rather than your own wedding. Remember, this isn’t one of those princesses your father tried to pair you off with to build an alliance. This is Gwen. She loves you and you love her. You’ve talked about marrying her for years, Arthur. Enjoy this day.”

Merlin’s encouragement did nothing to ease Arthur’s mood. If anything, he grew more tense.

“Merlin… I… there’s so much that I’ve wanted to say… that I didn’t… the time was never right and…”

Arthur grew silent for a moment and then tried again.

“It’s just that there are certain… expectations of a king. Certain duties. The line of succession must continue… But Merlin that doesn’t mean that I don’t…”

Arthur broke off as Leon opened the door to tell them that Geoffrey was about to begin.

“Thank you. We’re on our way.”

There was no time for the king to continue whatever he had been about to say.

Merlin clapped a hand to his shoulder.

“It’s going to be fine.”

Arthur nodded and Merlin leaned in to whisper in Arthur’s ear, his lips briefly grazing across the king’s skin.

“Go marry your queen.”

Drawing himself up like a knight heading into battle, Arthur walked down the corridor to meet his bride.

4

It had been a fabulous night at the tavern. Not even Merlin thoroughly trouncing him at dice could lessen Arthur’s mood. The ever-present threat of Morgana remained, but for that one evening, Arthur had been able to relax. The ale had helped but so had the company. Wandering back to the castle, arm strung around Merlin’s shoulders, Arthur couldn’t help but pity his father. Uther shut himself off from everyone, his son included. As far as Arthur knew, his father had never spent a night reveling with friends. What a lonely life, he thought.

Arthur threw his head back to stare at the stars. Looking at the sky and not the path ahead, he lost his footing, causing Merlin to wrap an arm around his waist to steady him. Since both king and servant had imbibed liberally, Merlin soon stumbled as well. Back and forth, they took turns keeping one another upright, tripping over their feet in the process. Somehow, without any major injuries but with copious bouts of laughter, they made it into the castle and up several flights of stairs to Arthur’s door.

“Thank you for the loveliest of evenings, Merlin,” the king slurred.

“Any time, my lord. Your pleasure is my pleasure.” Merlin started to laugh but stopped as his eyes met Arthur’s. The king searched his face for a moment.

“Is that so?” Arthur asked.

“Of course, sire. Nothing pleases me more than pleasing you.”

Merlin held Arthur’s gaze as he approached, backing Arthur against the corridor wall, pressing his body against the king’s.

Arthur let out a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Let me please you, Arthur.”

And then Merlin’s mouth was on Arthur’s. At first the king froze, his brain not quite able to process what was happening. But then Merlin’s tongue slipped between his lips and that brought Arthur back. Merlin kissed Arthur as though his life depended on it. Arthur moaned, running his hands through Merlin’s hair as he tried to match the intensity. Merlin shoved him against the wall, grinding his hips against Arthur’s as he devoured the king’s mouth and then…

From inside Arthur’s chambers, Gwen coughed in her sleep.

Merlin stopped and then backed away from Arthur. Mumbling an incoherent apology, he stumbled down the hall toward the stairwell and away from his bewildered king.

5

There was nothing left to do but focus on the task at hand. The king, after all, must look kingly, even at a time like this.

Merlin fastened the cloak around Arthur’s shoulders, then used magic to gently place his body in the boat. In the process, the fabric bunched up. That wasn’t regal. Merlin smoothed it out, using the cloth it to obscure the spot where Mordred’s blade had pierced Arthur’s armor. It would be wrong to send Arthur off with glaring evidence of what had defeated Camelot’s most capable knight.

Merlin collapsed to his knees, a sob shaking his whole body. After a few moments, he went back to work. A good servant must not falter, even in times of distress.

Ok, what else? Arthur’s hair. It needed combing but there was no comb to be had. Merlin let out an anguished laugh as he considered just how ridiculous the situation was. He had failed to save Arthur. His magic wasn’t powerful enough to heal the king, but it could sort the tangles in his hair. What a wonderful gift, Merlin thought bitterly.

The arms. They didn’t seem right stretched out by Arthur’s sides. That was too reminiscent of the bodies Merlin had seen laid out in Gaius’s infirmary, poor souls who were beyond repair but brought to the physician out of desperate hope. Better to fold the king’s arms across his chest. Carefully, Merlin intertwined Arthur’s fingers. There. That was better. If one could look past the pallor of his skin and the eerie stillness of his chest, it was almost as if Arthur was simply resting.

Merlin placed a trembling hand on Arthur’s forehead. It was time. He tried to take comfort in Kilgharrah’s words. Arthur would return. He would rise again. And damn it, when he did, he would look kingly. Or so Merlin tried to tell himself.

A few more tears fell and then Merlin started the incantation to send the boat on its way. He stopped and approached his king one last time, wiping his face so tears wouldn’t fall on the figure before him. Merlin leaned over and pressed a kiss against Arthur’s forehead.

“I’ll be waiting for you, dollophead.”

And then Merlin sent Arthur into the lake and on to the Sidhe.

+1

A blaring, rumbling sound jolted Arthur to full alert. He tried to find the source, but a row of small trees obscured his view. Fumbling for his sword, he discovered it missing. Though his initial panic subsided as the mysterious noise faded in the distance, he decided to seek shelter in case it returned. Exposed and unarmed wasn’t the best way to deal with unknown danger. And anyway, Arthur needed to rest. He felt so tired and his legs were unsteady. The trees could provide cover until he was ready to begin the long and likely dangerous journey back to Camelot.

He managed to make it into the foliage before he collapsed, the force disturbing several birds who took flight. From beyond the trees he heard footsteps nearing. Someone had noticed the commotion he’d caused. Arthur couldn’t stand – his legs refused to support him. He groped around for something, anything that might serve as a makeshift weapon, finding only a thin branch, not even suitable for a fishing rod. Still, he was the king of Camelot. He would go down fighting.

Whoever was approaching clearly wasn’t trying for stealth. Leaves rustled, sticks cracked underfoot, and a gravely voice was muttering something about… aching knees? Wrinkled hands pushed back the branches obscuring Arthur and an old man emerged. He didn’t appear to be a threat, what with his long beard tangled up in the packs he was carrying. Taking sight of Arthur, the old man froze for a moment, then dropped to the ground. Arthur studied his face as the man, after trying and failing to speak, began to sob. There was something familiar about him… something about the eyes… It reminded Arthur of the sorcerer who’d… oh!

“Merlin?”

No response for a moment and then the old man nodded.

“I… I waited for you, Arthur,” he choked out. “It’s been a little while. More like a long while. About fifteen hundred years. But you’re here and I found you. I’ve got a house nearby. It’s not a castle but it’s comfortable. I kept a room made up for you. There’s food and clothes and a bath. We just need to get you on your feet and…”

Joints creaking, Merlin inched closer to a stunned Arthur, tried to lift him and failed.

“This won’t work. Give me a second.”

Arthur watched as the elderly body morphed in response to a whispered incantation, the frail figure replaced with the Merlin who’d been with Arthur after Camlann. Bright blue eyes, dark hair, and, Arthur had to concede, the most amazing lips.

Arthur had so many questions. Did he actually die? What happened to Gwen and the knights and the kingdom? Had it really been fifteen hundred years? But, they could all keep. For now he marveled at this impossible, beautiful man who had waited for him across the centuries. Those lips…

“Arthur, what are you…”

Crashing into Merlin, Arthur cut him off with a kiss. They toppled over in the brush. There was so much Arthur should’ve said to him all those years ago. About gratitude and respect and desire and love… Arthur had failed to do so in one lifetime. He wasn’t about to waste this second chance. Lying in the small copse of trees, kissing Merlin with no abandon, Arthur hoped that a least a fraction of what he felt came through. He would properly put it into words later. For now, Arthur just wanted to stay here, pressed against the man he loved so dearly, with Merlin’s arms wrapped tightly around him.

 


End file.
